By Arthur W. Upfield
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Additional info for An Author Bites the Dust (Inspector Bonaparte 11)
Somewhere among the lilac-trees a cat began to caterwaul. Bony decided that if the excruciating cacophony was being produced by Miss Pinkney, she was indeed an excellent animal mimic. The car was being driven in through the gate, and almost immediately the lights swung right, were masked by the house, and then were reflected by trees growing behind the garage. The engine was switched off. The cat was working up to a perfectly rendered feline love-song. Strangely enough, Wilcannia-Smythe evinced no consciousness of the caterwauling or of the arrival of someone at 27 the house in a car.
The astonishment in the constable’s eyes waned and there waxed gleams of humour. 52 “Might,” he conceded. ” “Thank you, Simes, I will. I’m in the mood to gossip, and I see that it’s time for morning tea. Don’t you suggest it, though. ” 53 Chapter Eight Mrs Farn’s Reactions qÜÉ large picture was of a forest of giant trees, white and dead and ghostly. In all his travels about Australia Bony had never gazed upon a scene similar to that presented by the brush of Constable Simes. The trunks rose from a floor of low green suckers, rose with the smooth gleam of marble columns for two hundred feet or more, thrusting out and upward white skeleton arms in mute appeal towards a cobalt sky.
In all his travels about Australia Bony had never gazed upon a scene similar to that presented by the brush of Constable Simes. The trunks rose from a floor of low green suckers, rose with the smooth gleam of marble columns for two hundred feet or more, thrusting out and upward white skeleton arms in mute appeal towards a cobalt sky. Ten years previously they had died by fire. Hearing footsteps at the door, Bony turned to meet a woman who entered the room followed by Constable Simes. She was small, plump, and immaculate in a blue house frock.
An Author Bites the Dust (Inspector Bonaparte 11) by Arthur W. Upfield